


4 times Bato fails to propose to Hakoda and 1 time it sticks

by Pretentious_Procrastinator



Series: Bry's Bakoda Fleet Week Fic [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal, More Serious Than It Sounds, Surprisingly not crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pretentious_Procrastinator/pseuds/Pretentious_Procrastinator
Summary: Bato is getting slightly desperate. He’s been wracking his brain trying to remember what he’s done to offend the spirits, because he must’ve done something. There’s no other explanation for the giant cosmic joke being played on him. Every time he tries to propose to Hakoda – and that’s including the times he hadn’t even planned anything, had just been hit by a moment when it had been all he could think of - they getinterrupted.
Relationships: Bato & Sokka (Avatar), Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Hakoda & Katara (Avatar)
Series: Bry's Bakoda Fleet Week Fic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851220
Comments: 12
Kudos: 136
Collections: Bakoda Fleet Week 2020





	4 times Bato fails to propose to Hakoda and 1 time it sticks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 3 - Interrupted/Smoke of [Bakoda Fleet Week](https://bakodafleetweek.tumblr.com/)  
> This fic is unedited to the extent that even I haven't re-read it once I finished writing. I'm sorry if there's any glaring errors!

Bato is getting slightly desperate. He’s been wracking his brain trying to remember what he’s done to offend the spirits, because he must’ve done something. There’s no other explanation for the giant cosmic joke being played on him. Every time he tries to propose to Hakoda – and that’s including the times he hadn’t even planned anything, had just been hit by a moment when it had been all he could think of - they get _interrupted_. 

**(1)**

The first time Bato almost doesn’t count as an interruption. He loves Sokka and Katara as if they are his own children, although that doesn’t stop him being irritated by them on occasion, as any parent would. That first time he failed to propose though, he could never hold their involvement against them. 

It was several weeks before they planned to leave their home to join the fight against the Fire Nation, and Bato had been turning the idea of proposing over and over in his mind for weeks. Since they’d agreed upon a departure date. He and Hakoda had only been together romantically for less than a year, anything sooner unthinkable with the shadow of Kya’s death over all of them. But they had known each other for so long, had already seen the worst and best of each other; Bato could not imagine knowing each other better than they already did, could not imagine it possible that their devotion to each other could grow any further. He didn’t think marriage could manage that either. But for once Bato wanted to be a little selfish, wanted to have everyone know Hakoda as his own. Wanted Hakoda to be a little selfish, too. 

So he planned the perfect evening to ask him. Nothing elaborate, the two of them were perhaps the most aware of their precarious position and the need to leave behind as many reserves for the women and children as they could when they left. But Kanna had agreed to take Sokka and Katara to sleep in another igloo for the night, he’d cooked sea prunes, and laid out the best furs. All the little comforts Koda liked. All the little comforts he often denied himself for the sake of others. (With the rate Sokka and Katara ate sea prunes, they were a rarity.) And when he walked in and saw it all, Hakoda’s smile softened the prominent jut of his cheekbones in a way that never failed to take Bato’s breath away. 

Forgoing the seat next to Bato’s in favour of sitting in front of him, Hakoda settled between his legs to press his back against Bato’s front. Bato curled around him, stooping to rest his chin on Hakoda’s shoulder – dropping a kiss against his temple on the way - and wound his arms around Hakoda’s stocky chest. Hakoda’s arms came up to cover Bato’s own as he snuggled back into him; as usual, the way Hakoda trusted Bato to hold his weight without saying anything made Bato infinitely glad of the faith he was given. Bato was reserved with new people, but with the people he’d dedicated his heart to? There was nothing better to him than the chance to look after them.

“What’s the occasion?” Hakoda asked.

“Can’t I just spoil the man I love?” 

Hakoda scoffed, but Bato knew he was pleased. He seldom admitted it, but he liked the occasions where Bato spoke from the heart, perhaps more so because of their rarity. Twisting round, Hakoda looked at him appraisingly, apparently seeing something in his face that satisfied him. 

“You’ve made a good start.” Hakoda gestured expansively around them without looking away. “Very impressive. But I haven’t had a kiss yet, so I’m going to have to mark you down -” 

Bato kissed him just to stop him talking. He might’ve largely grown out of his babbling, but sometimes it was best to cut Hakoda off before he even began. Drawing back, he pulled at Hakoda’s knee, encouraging him to shift round to sit sideways, legs draped over one of Bato’s. It was easier to kiss like that, and he could see Hakoda’s face better: the wind-roughened skin, his signature cheekbones, the bags under his eyes from hard work – all of it so dear to him, Hakoda all the more handsome for the feelings he inspired in Bato. 

Satisfied, he spoke. “Better?”

“Nearly. Get me some sea-prunes and I’ll be happy.” 

“They’re not quite ready yet. I wanted time to have you to myself first, before you became too enraptured by your first love.”

Hakoda barked out a laugh. “You know me too well. In that case then…” Hakoda leant in to kiss him again, gentleness quickly giving way to heat. Bato let himself melt into it, the time passing languidly; relaxation was a luxury they’d had little access to in the months (years) previous. But Bato also had a purpose, one he didn’t intend to forget regardless of the distraction Hakoda presented. 

Pulling away with some reluctance, he kept one arm wrapped around Hakoda and the other anchored on his knee. “There was actually a reason for all this. I – um, I wanted to ask you…” Here Bato faltered, but Hakoda didn’t noticed, attention suddenly diverted by familiar-sounding voices raised outside the igloo. 

“Dad!” Katara and the wind whirled inside, Sokka trailing along sullenly. “Sokka’s just told me when you’re all leaving. I knew it was going to be soon, but in a few weeks?” 

Her cheeks were red from being outside, but the tears refusing to fall from her eyes told Bato she’d likely be flushed angrily regardless. “You’re -” She stamped her foot, once, and it was hard to tell if the snow on her shoulders fell because of that or because of her bending. “…You’re going to miss Mom’s birthday!”

Bato didn’t need to be looking at Hakoda to see his shoulders sink, not when he could feel it in every line of his body.

“Oh, Katara. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought you knew.” Hakoda rose to his feet, walking over to wrap one arm around Katara, the other open in Sokka’s direction, who stepped forward hesitantly, looking apologetic. Bato’s heart ached that he felt it necessary to feel sorry at all. 

Katara was stiff in the embrace for a few seconds before leaning into it, hiding her face against Hakoda’s chest. “Why do you have to leave so soon?”

“We need to leave before winter comes and the ice gets too thick. And we’ve built up the food and blubber reserves as much as we can.” Hakoda leant down to kiss Katara’s hair briefly, the hand not holding her resting tight against Sokka’s nape. He still hadn’t stepped into Hakoda’s embrace, and that looked like it hurt Hakoda nearly as much as the words he was saying, looking Sokka directly in the face. “Hunting is hard in winter, and all the experienced hunters are either coming with us or too old to hunt any more. Practising before the snows gets bad is important if the village is going to survive, and having all the warriors from the other villages here would strip the reserves down more, even if we stayed and hunted around our preparations.”

“I’ll practise, Dad. I promise.” The last time Bato had seen Sokka’s quiet determination was on Kya’s face. 

“And I’ll help.” Katara’s said, voice muffled by Hakoda’s clothes.

“I know you will.” Hakoda sounded fine enough, resolute and proud, but Bato could tell his heart was breaking. Maybe because his own felt the same way. They were both certain that leaving was what they needed to do. The Fire Nation would never be defeated if everyone waited for someone else to save them. But the cost of it- leaving their home and their family, felt so so heavy. Heavier still for the burden they were leaving on the village, on Sokka and Katara’s shoulders in particular. 

There were sniffling noises against Hakoda’s tunic, and Bato almost winced at the thought of washing it later. 

“I’m sorry, Dad, I do understand why you need to go. I just…I miss Mom, and the past two years we’ve remembered her on her birthday. And this year…you’re not going to be here.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for. And I know, I miss her too. And I am sorry to be missing her birthday.”

“We both are.” Bato finally spoke, heartsick at seeing the children so upset. Sokka made a wordless noise at it, breaking away from Hakoda and throwing himself down against Bato in one violent movement. He grunted a bit at the weight of a (just about) teenaged boy colliding against his side, but still gathered Sokka in close. It had been far too long since Sokka had allowed this type of affection, and longer still since he had asked for it, too caught up in trying to prove his independence. 

All of a sudden, Bato felt immeasurably guilty. He knew Kya would want them to be happy. Would say that moving on is a natural part of life, that the tides came and went and slowly re-shaped the ice. But now, Sokka in his lap and Katara wrapped in Hakoda’s arms, it felt too soon. Their lives were still jagged with grief and the planned departure would only up-end them further. The loss of Kya was still too raw for the children to think about him and Hakoda marrying; they certainly knew about their relationship, but neither he and Hakoda were naturally demonstrative, even without the careful sensitivity with which they’d navigated the change to their relationship from platonic to romantic. 

Bato let himself feel a short, shameful burst of resentment before ruthlessly quashing it. He may want to be selfish, just this once. But in this case, it wouldn’t be ‘just once’. It would be leaving Sokka and Katara with even more to adjust to, forcing them to confront yet another thing they weren’t ready for – they would already have to shoulder enough without placing this on them as well. And Bato couldn’t – wouldn’t – do that to them.

So later, when Katara and Sokka had succumbed to sleep – having eaten the seal-lion’s share of the sea prunes – and Hakoda asked what Bato what he was going to say, Bato just reached for him and said, “It’ll keep.”

**(2)**

The second time, Bato was quite happy to blame the people who interrupted them. He and Hakoda were curled up in bed, both having drawn the afternoon watch for once, instead of being separated on night and day watches. They’d taken full advantage of Hakoda’s private cabin earlier, but were dressed again now, to ward off both the chill and the bad luck that inevitably followed being unprepared for an attack. That said, there was no expectation of one. They had been keeping away from the Earth Kingdom coast and the colonies there, and they had not seen vessel other than their own fleet for days. None of their intelligence reports indicated a Fire Nation naval presence. 

Bato let himself relax for once. His back was safe to the cabin wall, Hakoda was in his arms between him and the door, and there were other men on watch. In this war, there were few safer places he could be. Pulling Hakoda more firmly against him, he nuzzled his face against Hakoda’s hair - clean but slightly stiff with salt from the seawater they used to bathe. 

“Ok?” Hakoda asked, cupping Bato’s left elbow reassuringly. Lying as they were, both on their right sides, he had to reach up with his bottom hand to where Bato’s arm was held around him, wrapping himself securely in a cage of limbs. Bato loved that Hakoda was unashamed about how comforting he found being held like this, and had been since they were children whispering at night; he had fond memories of evenings spent laughing with Kya as well, when Hakoda would unabashedly pull Kya over to wrap around himself like a living blanket. 

“With you here, how could I be anything else?”

“Hmm, well you could be worrying about something. Like the fact we need to resupply in the next week and we haven’t decided where yet? That Nivruq and Tadok nearly came to blows yesterday? That you’re the last remaining hold-out against getting a fleet mascot?”

Bato jabbed his fingers into Hakoda’s ribs. He squirmed but didn’t try to get away. “I try to say something nice, and you remind me exactly why I don’t normally bother.”

“You don’t mean that. It’s part of my charm.” 

Normally, Bato would respond with more teasing, happy to knock Hakoda down a peg. A romantic relationship didn’t change years of bantering, nor suddenly make Hakoda’s terrible jokes funny. But here, curled up in their bed, a quiver of stress in Hakoda’s voice, Bato couldn’t bring himself to say anything cutting. Instead, he wrapped his ankle tighter around Hakoda’s calf, trying to meld the entire length of their bodies together. 

“You are very charming, I will admit.” Hakoda was so much more than that, but Bato didn’t quite know how to say it. 

Or maybe he did. 

Hakoda turned his head, pillowed on Bato’s forearm, to kiss at the sensitive near his wrist. It was comforting, not sensual, Hakoda’s beard tickling a little. Bato still felt like he’d been hit by lightning. His love for Hakoda was a steady, constant thing, but in that moment he loved deeply, desperately; he was seized by a sudden recklessness, wanting to marry Hakoda more than he ever had. They could lose each other, so easily. Why not grasp every opportunity they could? 

He opened his mouth, gathering his words, though really he needed only two. 

A different voice interrupted him. 

“Smoke! Smoke on the horizon.” Nivruq, given the night watch as punishment for his altercation with Tadok, was shouting outside the door. Banging accompanied his words, ensuring they’d heard, but Hakoda was already extracting himself from their nest of furs. He quickly pulled on his boots, passing Bato’s to him as he sat up. 

“We can’t have one spirit-damned night, can we?” Bato groused, more to himself than anyone.

Hakoda turned to him, regret in his eyes. “Sorry, love.” 

He looked so guilty, like it was his fault that Fire Nation ships had found them. Bato stood, reaching out to place his hand on Hakoda’s shoulder. 

“You haven’t done anything. Now, come on. We should be on deck.”

Hakoda nodded, once, and left the cabin. Bato followed, like he always would. 

Later, when evading the Fire Nation ships had proved impossible and they’d been forced to turn and fight, Bato would regret once again, for a moment, not asking Hakoda to marry him anyway, damn the consequences. But the only reason they hadn’t lost any men in an otherwise costly encounter – a few serious injuries, many more minor wounds, and they had used the last of their blasting jelly – was because of Hakoda’s razor sharp focus, and the crucial few minutes they’d had to plan. 

Bato could not regret that for long. But he was determined that nothing would stop him the next time he proposed. 

**(3)**

The less said about the third time, the better. Half of the warriors had come down with stomach sickness, a parting-gift from a fish stew served at the last Earth Kingdom port they’d stopped at, so Bato wasn’t alone in his misery at least. And he and Hakoda had certainly seen each other through worse. But Bato had thought proposing just after vomiting on Hakoda was not the most appropriate of timing, forgive him for being a romantic. 

**(4)**

The fourth time was just after the failed invasion on the Day of Black Sun. Despite himself, all Bato could feel was a combination of shame and anger. It had been foolish to assume the Fire Nation wouldn’t have been expecting an attack, wouldn’t have prepared for one on the day of their greatest weakness, regardless. And he was angry that is had been in vain, that so many people had died or been injured for nothing. 

Not at Sokka, whose ideas had gotten them further than they ever could’ve without the submarines and tanks. Who had proved himself his father’s son even more than their shared humour attested to when he stepped up to pull their forces together, Bato having been pre-occupied with the tribe warriors. No, towards Sokka he felt nothing but pride, and a lingering sadness that he had to be involved in this war at all. The same for Katara, who had grown so much, in her bearing and her self-assurance nearly as much as in her incredible bending. Bato knew that Hakoda would likely have died without her healing, left in a cell without medical attention as they were, and that many others of the invasion group owed their life either to her healing or her battle-prowess. 

The same to their companions, Aang, and the little earthbending master, Toph, and the other strange people they’d met on their travels. They were children – incredibly talented, experienced children – but children nonetheless. There was a reason he and the other adults had sent them all away, and it was not just so that the Avatar could face the Firelord another day. (And that in itself sat badly with Bato. Avatar or no, Aang was barely thirteen.)

No, he was angry at the Fire Nation, at himself, at a fire bender who was already dead but who he still wanted to kill for hurting Hakoda. And he felt ashamed that despite their failure and the loss of lives, what he cared about the most was the pain on Hakoda’s face. 

They’d all been stripped of armour and thrown into a large cell together two days ago, and had been given a water bucket but no food, nor medical supplies or access to healing. No one had died yet, at least. Or likely would, but that was little comfort when some of the most injured had been left on the battlefield. Despite their best efforts, some wounds meant the people with them couldn’t be moved easily, and as they’d begun the retreat they’d been forced to keep all numbers protecting the main force, instead of sending people out to retrieve those separated from the group. 

All of the people who’d fought had volunteered for the invasion. They knew the risks. But that didn’t stop Bato feeling guilty, especially when he thought of his own injury. He’d been lucky. The water tribe warriors had won the skirmish in which he’d been wounded, and the abbey had been close by. But he could’ve so easily been left behind if the battle had gone the wrong way, and in a much more precarious place than the abbey. It would’ve half-killed Hakoda to do it, and he probably would’ve come back in a foolish attempt at saving him once the men were safe, but he would always make the horrible, difficult decision that was better for their fleet overall. It was just another reason Bato loved him. And, after having to make the same call, Bato marvelled at the strength of his partner. 

A hand on his knee brought him out of his brooding. It was Hakoda, who even slumped back against the wall, eyes closed and mouth tight with pain, had sensed Bato’s thoughts spiralling. Bato turned his head to look at him, sick of staring at his own crossed legs. Even Hakoda being in pain didn’t stop Bato wanting to stare at him. 

He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t often free with his words anyway, not with those outside his family, and there was no privacy in the cell. 

“You don’t need to say anything.” 

If Bato wasn’t aware of just how well Hakoda read him, he’d have thought he’d spoken aloud.

A hand came up to press against his cheek, despite the way it made Hakoda wince at the pull of his wound, and he let himself sink into it for a long moment, closing his eyes and accepting the comfort. He was tired. He was tired of this cell, and tired of the war, and tired that so many had sacrificed so much for it. Tired that the man he loved, one of the best men he knew, had nearly died in front of his children. Sokka and Katara had already lost Kya. As strong as they were, Bato didn’t even want to think about what would happen to them if Hakoda died. He would look after them, of course he would. So would Kanna, so would the whole tribe. So would Aang and Toph, and Katara had talked about her water-bending master. 

But they would have no legal guardians. That mattered little in the tribe. He supposed it mattered little in a world at war, not when Sokka and Katara were so entrenched in it. But there was a part of him that wanted so badly to make sure they would be safe. 

Once, worry for Sokka and Katara had stopped him asking Hakoda to marry him. Here, days after watching them lead and fight, worry for them made him want to ask more. He wanted to marry Hakoda for himself, spirits did he. But Hakoda was not just _Hakoda_ , hadn’t been since the day Sokka had been born. And since then, when he had been the fourth person to hold Sokka (after Kya and Kanna gave him to Hakoda), the kids had been part of his life too. 

He reached up to grasp Hakoda’s hand, bringing it down from his face to cradle in his lap, toying with the fingers. It was an unusually coy move for what would not be a coy conversation. 

But once again, the spirits laughed at him and his plans. Bato nearly laughed himself. It would not have been a nice laugh. Instead, eight helmeted guards entered the cell, more lining up outside. The blank eyes of their helmets were far more threatening than their faces could ever be as they started separating people out, the Mechanist and Tyro amongst them. Two guards stepped their way.

“Stand up, you two.”

For a moment, Bato thought about ignoring them, but one look at the pointed toes of their boots, far too close to Hakoda’s wounded side, made him reconsider. There was a time and a place for resistance, and whatever they’d been singled out for would undoubtedly require a great deal of fortitude. He wasn’t surprised that they’d been identified as leaders in the attack. They’d discarded Hakoda’s signature helm before they were captured, but his injury and commanding air were less easily hidden. As for Bato himself, his height alone made identifiable. 

He wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when, once out of the cell, they were walked in different directions. Bato looked over his shoulder, locking eyes with Hakoda. There was pain on his face, emotional rather than physical this time, and Bato could feel it mirrored on his own. He nodded, once, an insufficient goodbye for the man he loved, but the only one he could give. Hakoda nodded back, and then turned away, features already smoothing into detachment. Bato did the same. 

He wouldn’t see Hakoda until after the war was finished. 

**+1**

This was it. Surely, this time had to be the time that stuck. Bato was going to ask Hakoda to marry him even if it killed someone. (He carefully avoided thinking about the second time he’d tried to propose, when abandoning the proposal really had been a matter of life and death.) The war was over, the young Avatar and Firelord were helping to restore peace amongst the nations, aided by Toph and Sokka and Katara and others from the frankly bewildering collection of people that they had met along the way. They were back home, the children back more often than not too. And now he and Hakoda were out on a ‘fishing trip’ in one of the skiffs, in what everyone knew was a thinly veiled excuse for some peace and privacy. 

“Is there a reason you’re twitchier than Tukrek was that time we convinced him ice-spiderscorpions existed?” Hakoda asked, looking bemused. His voice knocked Bato out of his thoughts.

“First of all, I don’t think that’s possible. And secondly, I’m not twitchy.”

“Huh.” Bato felt slightly offended by the amount of doubt Hakoda packed into one sound. That was normally his trick. 

Hakoda focused on his hands, looking down at the piece of rope he was coiling up before looking up at Bato. “Now, it can’t be the boat. We spent the best part of three years aboard them, and it’s not like we hadn’t had experience with them before that. The ice floes are steady and the currents aren’t shifting, so the dolphin-piranhas can’t get this close to the coast. And the weather doesn’t look likely to change.” 

With each item added to his list, Hakoda stepped closer, Bato swaying backwards without noticing, until his back bumped against the central mast. Looking down into Hakoda’s face, he thought it likely anyone else would miss the mischievous gleam in his eye.

“So by process of elimination, it must be me.”

Tui and La, this man was cocky. And, unfortunately, very often correct. He was this time at the very least; it wasn’t that Hakoda himself worried Bato, Bato only ever worried _aboutagain_ , then he might as well give up on the idea and just enjoy Hakoda’s company. 

Hakoda’s arms were firm around Bato’s waist, and with the mast behind him he felt comfortably enclosed, even as the cold wind on his face and the sea and ice stretching for miles gave him a sense of freedom. Out here amongst the ice, despite the danger that never fully disappeared, was one of the few places Bato felt at peace. It seemed fitting that he should try here, one last time, to ask Hakoda to marry him, where so many important parts of their lives had happened. The previous times he’d tried to ask, it had never been just them, not truly. There had always been too many other responsibilities.

Neither of them were lacking those now, either. But the stakes felt different. Sokka and Katara were fine. Better than fine. Amazing. Had come through war tattered but strong, and Bato no longer had to worry whether he and Hakoda marrying would affect them. Not after the awkward conversation they’d had after cornering him one night. 

The war was over, and yes re-building was important, but they no longer held multiple lives at stake, juggling duty and success and soul-destroying pragmatism. They were free to just be Bato and Hakoda. 

He smiled, despite himself, breaking the kiss. Maybe there was a reason his previous proposals hadn’t worked. 

“You get even more handsome when you smile.” Hakoda’s voice sounded almost accusing. Bato laughed, suddenly giddy, and kissed the scrunched lines of Hakoda’s forehead. 

“Marry me?”

Hakoda froze under his lips, and Bato pulled back to look at him. He wasn’t worried though, and his cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling. 

“What?”

“Will you marry me, Koda?”

Hakoda blinked, slowly, and later Bato would tease him so much about his response to a proposal. For the moment, he just waited, watching joy spread across Hakoda’s face, the wind-bitten cheeks softening with a smile. 

“Yes! Yes, of course! Of course, spirits, Bato.” Hakoda’s words tumbled out of him, and he pulled out of Bato’s arms, striding off on an aborted lap of the boat, ducking back to kiss Bato. He caught Bato’s cheek first, then his chin, and then the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t seem to matter where he was kissing exactly, as long as was. Hakoda took a moment to press their foreheads together, exhaling shakily, before he tore away again, too much energy to stay still. 

"Are you going to do a dance? It certainly looks like it,” Bato said, watching fondly. 

“Ha! With how anxious you were looking earlier, you should be the one celebrating.”

“Yes, yes. You caught me. I was…nervous. And can you blame with, with the amount of times I’ve tried before?” Bato said the last sentence under his breath, but Hakoda had an uncanny ability to hear things at the most inconvenient of times. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Bato answered quickly, turning to unfold the sails. They hadn’t caught any fish, but everyone knew that hadn’t been the purpose of this trip anyway. They may as well start the trip home, and celebrate properly.

“Wait, when did you try to ask me before? And how many times?”

Bato studiously ignored Hakoda. It was harder when he came to stand right in front of Bato, but Bato had also been friends with Hakoda as a nine-year-old. He was very good at deliberate avoidance as an annoyance tactic. 

“ _How many times, Bato?_ ”

As the sail filled with wind, Bato grinned, again, thinking that he hadn’t smiled so much in years.

**Author's Note:**

> If this fic gave you the impression I believe Pakku has rights then unfortunately you're mistaken. At the point of the fic when he alludes to him, Bato had not met him. His opinion very much changed once he had.
> 
> As always, feel free to hmu up on [tumblr](https://thewintermusketeer.tumblr.com/).


End file.
